


The Past is a Grotesque Animal

by orphan_account



Series: Vent fics with minimal editing. [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Dissociation, Eliza Schuyler- Mentioned - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, John Laurens- Mentioned - Freeform, Mania, Mental Health Issues, Multi, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 23:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9791810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Things could be different, but they're not. When he is alone at night, the feeling grips him, takes him by the hand and leads him away from reality.Alexander manic-dissociates.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Vent fic. Criticism is always welcome, comments will make me cry with joy. Written 15-2-2017.

It is always late in the day when it strikes him, the feeling that clenched around his lungs and heart with dizzying power. That feeling of being more than he is and less than the whole of himself. His mind feels disconnected, severed from all but the white tether. 

It comes with the feeling of unreality, like he is falling through a solid surface and at the same time flying.

He knows he is Alexander Hamilton, and he knows he has love but he does not know from where this comes or where this goes, but this is ok

He always created his own disaster, he always has and always will but now as he sways alone and surrounded he thinks this is not a disaster but a miracle, what other word can describe this feeling

It is not happiness or joy but a feeling so strong it fills him flows from him his lungs his mouth his eyes his pores this energy this pressure to escape even when there is none

His blood escapes instead from small holes on his hands then arms then legs pricked by a small metal staff used to mark location on a map once but now used to mark his freedom but the energy builds nonetheless and if his blood is dead is he really alive

We are beautiful not realistic and he realises this when he thinks of the patio at night with puddles of moonlight in which he splashes creating not a ripple but a disappearance and he thinks

_We are mortal and we are weak yet we have such vast capabilities and this world we live in is so wide and so small and our bodies area frail and our minds are weak yet so, so powerful_

His breath comes quick and hard dizzying in its ferocity and gentle wind, he is shaken yet feels so so much stronger than before not physically but mentally as if his mind has torn down walls and is free to soar

And the feeling grabs him, takes him by the hand and spins him round the room and the galaxy and his mind is filled with white frissons and he knows of his love for Eliza and his John even when he knows they are not real for nothing can be real in this implausible reality and it grips him and doesn’t let go and he spins and spins and _screams—_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm considering writing a different POV for this, like someone discovering him in this state. Please let me know if you think that would be a good idea.


End file.
